


It's Called a Funhouse

by Miraphina Atherton (mew_tsubaki)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, F/F, Older Characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-02 04:50:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11502129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mew_tsubaki/pseuds/Miraphina%20Atherton
Summary: Pansy doesn't love her job. It pays well, but she dislikes all the happiness around her. She wishes for a piece of her own... A customer may just change her outlook on life.





	It's Called a Funhouse

**Author's Note:**

> The Harry Potter characters belong to J.K. Rowling, not to me. Read, review, and enjoy!

And there things go again.

Pansy Parkinson cursed for the umpteenth time. Why was it that she got to see all her fellow Slytherins go about in their happy lives, and she was left behind to _plan_ these horrible weddings for them? She really wished for a new vocation…

But the money was _so_ good…

That didn't matter, though. Astoria had been happily married to Draco for so long now, and Daphne and Blaise had married several years ago… The icing on Pansy's cake was Tracey coming in the other day with some family members; Theodore Nott had finally popped the question to her, and she was positively glowing—something amazing considering Pansy had always seen Tracey as somewhat of a wallflower.

So one day, one year blended into another. That was how it always was for Pansy, the one left in the dust.

The bell rang on her boutique's front door. "Hello?"

Pansy glanced up and saw a pretty blonde with hazel eyes enter. The Slytherin frowned. Of course. It wasn't as though Mr. Right would walk right in to her store. "Can I help you?" Pansy asked, pinching herself to smile politely.

"Uh, yes…" The girl—meh, woman—fumbled with her coat pockets, looking for some note. Pansy took the moment to size her up. The blonde was fairly tall, taller than Pansy (though that wasn't saying much; Pansy had always been a bit on the short side). Her blonde hair was flowing and held slight waves that were only apparent when she turned her head this way and that. Her hazel eyes were like the pale brown of a new wand or broomstick, and her skin was fair in a luminescent way, like that of…

"A Veela," Pansy groused under her breath.

The blonde picked up her head just as she placed a tattered purchase order on the counter. "Sorry?"

Pansy shook herself. "Beg pardon… You have Veela blood, don't you?"

The blonde smiled, and Pansy felt as if she wanted to knock the perfect white teeth out of little Miss Perfect's mouth. "Very good. I have very little blood, but, yes, you're correct." She pointed to her order. "I'm Dominique Weasley, Victoire's younger sister."

Well, la-di-fucking-da. Another Weasley. Hadn't there been enough during Pansy's time and generation? But Pansy's mind worked overtime while the name "Victoire" echoed in her brain. Ah, yes… Victoire… Neville Longbottom's bride-to-be… Their wedding was going to be just this side of extravagant—Pansy still couldn't believe that _Longbottom_ was getting hitched ahead of her! And a second time, no less! How infuriating!

"So I'm here to pick up Vic's veil," Dominique explained. She had that stupid glow about her, showing that she was exuding pride at being her sister's maid of honor.

Pansy nodded vaguely and disappeared into the back. She found the floral lace headpiece in no time and quickly returned with it in hand. "Payment as written there, please."

Dominique placed the Galleons on the counter, and Pansy cleared up as if it were any other transaction. The blonde Weasley nodded her thanks and left.

_Good riddance_ , Pansy thought. But of course she'd see more of that maid of honor again.

* * *

It seemed as though Dominique returned not that long after her first appearance. Apparently Victoire had better things to do than to take care of her own wedding plans. It was a good thing that Pansy had ironed out the details with her and Longbottom ages ago, so she at least didn't have to see their ugly mugs that often.

Dominique grinned. "Hello, Miss Parkinson," she said just a little too cheerily. She had this knack for getting on Pansy's nerves in just the best, little ways. And, worst of all, she didn't even realize it.

Pansy passed it off as her hate for the Weasleys, the bunch of blood-traitors they were. But she did her best not to let it affect her business too much each and every time the younger sister was sent to run an errand.

After the veil, Dominique came to collect the gloves. She loved the stitching on them, and Pansy couldn't help but be slightly smug over her own handiwork.

The jewelry was the next checkpoint. The beadwork was heavily praised by the younger woman, and she even made Pansy promise not to tell Victoire that Dominique tried the turquoise topaz set on. Dominique cooed and trilled over the shiny gems, but Pansy had a hard time refraining from telling her that pale blue did nothing for the blonde. Sharp, royal purple amethyst much better suited her looks.

And, when Dominique next came to collect the pumps, Pansy thought back to the jewelry. She'd probably never wear something that nice, though she did like the feel of the pieces in her hands as she put them together in one-of-a-kind designs. So she resigned herself to the idea that she'd only ever hold those jewels, not wear them.

"You never think about what you'd like to do for yourself one day?" Dominique asked Pansy after so many weeks of pointless trips back and forth because really the wedding couple could've waited and collected most of these things at a date closer to their day.

"No, I don't," Pansy murmured absentmindedly. She put away a reception hall design and rubbed her eyelids; she was so tired these days, mainly from the Longbottom–Weasley and Nott–Davies weddings coming up so soon.

"Why not, Miss Pansy?" the blonde inquired. She held up some gold earring to the side of her face and scrunched up her nose, clearly unsatisfied with it.

"Because dreams are just mirages," Pansy answered. And, as she said it, she knew it to be true, because she never got Draco and she never got Blaise and she never had the true life of a pureblood wife that she'd always wanted.

A necklace appeared at the base of the brunette's throat, and Pansy half turned to ask Dominique what she was doing. But her words were caught in her throat, for Pansy caught her reflection in a nearby hand mirror. And she was absolutely breathtaking—somehow.

Dominique nodded, understanding the look on her acquaintance's face. "But what happens when a mirage is actually an attainable dream?"

* * *

Something happened that day. It was as though a switch had flipped in Pansy so she'd start feeling optimistic about things… She couldn't get the image of the necklace on her out of her mind. Who knew that peridot could look so lovely?

And, yet, despite the brighter outlook, something tugged at the planner's stomach. Dominique would turn up one final time soon to collect her sister's dress, a lovely picture of silver and periwinkle brocade and silk. And then Dominique would wave goodbye and Pansy would probably only bump into her once or twice more fleetingly at the actual reception.

Dominique did show up, ready to lug the huge ensemble around with her. She wanted a sneak peek first, and Pansy—being the proud person she was—felt it was only right to show off her work.

"Oh, it's beautiful…," Dominique breathed, and her eyes roved over the gown, eating up every inch of it. She turned to Pansy, her blonde hair flying over her shoulder. "Do you—Do you have a dress I could…try on?"

Pansy fought a laugh; after all this time, Dominique had finally decided that maybe some things were better left for her sister to experience. But Pansy waltzed around her boutique, thinking as she thumbed the racks. Then she pulled out a strapless mermaid dress and ushered her companion into the large changing room in the back.

Dominique changed very quickly and only needed help zipping up the back. The bodice fit her—as Pansy had guessed—excellently, and the skirt and the train weren't overwhelming. They complemented the top half superbly.

The blonde brushed her hair to hang over her right shoulder, and both women stared at the masterpiece in white. Pansy smiled a bit enviously, because she might have a shape, but Dominique's figure was to die for and she knew she wouldn't ever be like that.

The younger witch dropped her eyes to the floor. "I wonder if I'll ever wear something as nice as this or Victoire's," she wondered aloud.

Pansy waved her off, scoffing. "Sure you will. Every witch has her day."

"You're right…" Cheered up, she picked her head up and asked, "Could you unzip the back? I don't want to tear it."

The Slytherin nimbly found the tiny silver zipper and slowly started to pull. But then it hit her. She could have control of more than just her job. So what if her dreams had become a little warped after all this time…? Maybe she didn't have mirages; maybe she had dreams…

Pansy paused and stared at Dominique's reflection again. She stood beside her and, in a friendly way, leaned her head on the taller's shoulder. Dominique smiled and leaned her head on Pansy's, coming to understand the older witch with just a glance at her eye's in the mirror. "See? Just think of the possibilities, Miss Pansy."

_I can only think of the possibilities,_ Pansy thought to herself as her eyes ate up the vision in white and she wondered…wondered how that image would look obscured…or painted with more color, more pink…like Dominique's bare skin…

The brunette shook her head and stayed in business mode as her fingers grazed that pink skin and hung the pure white dress back on the rack, but Dominique grinned her sweet grin not ready to shake off the moment just yet. "How about we grab a cuppa?"

Pansy nodded and stared at the mirror while Dominique quickly dressed. Oh, if only the mirror could show the crazy, distorted thoughts running bizarrely through the brunette's mind…

Seeing the possibility of Dominique's hands on her in an all-too-familiar way was like looking at a taunting funhouse mirror. But, as that wolfish grin came to replace the blonde's sweet one, Pansy wondered just how teasing and mirage-like that mirror really was.

**Author's Note:**

> 8D Wow! I actually had planned something a little hotter for the ending, but I think I'd better save that for a sequel.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and please review!
> 
> -mew-tsubaki ;)
> 
> 2017 note: My gods. Pansique's one of my all-time fav femslash ships in HariPo, and I. X3 But I can't believe this was only my 2nd femslash fic? Not to mention my old A/N mentioned me not being a big fan of femslash… *LOL* Tbh, 7 yrs later, I will p much read and write anything. Het, slash, femslash—I love it all. -w-


End file.
